


Casmaran

by llyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyn/pseuds/llyn
Summary: When Kylo meets Hux his bad summer gets worse.





	Casmaran

He woke up cramped on a drooping couch sweating in a strong beam of afternoon sunlight. The party trash of the night before had been swept from the coffee table with the firm diagonal strokes of a small but angry hand, stubborn little streaks of ash all that remained. No one answered when he called hello, scrubbing his face with tingling fingers, nerves still asleep.

Finn, Rey, and Poe were gone, giving Kylo the space to slink away unseen like a nasty bug spotted in the bathroom—not killed on sight due to sheer horror but locked up alone in the dark and expected to disappear on its own. It annoyed him. They had no right to be generous. He’d stayed too late, gotten too drunk, worn out his welcome. There’d been shouting and—of course—ugliness. He’d ruined the night again, but Kylo didn’t chase the memory, digging instead in the couch cushions until he turned up his crumpled cigarette pack, empty.

Vaguely he remembered snapping his last cigarette in half, though he couldn’t recall the harsh but true point he was making when it happened. He was always doing that, now. Breaking things. Making points no one cared to hear, even if they were true. He stared at his dark reflection in the television’s blank black screen. Something was terribly wrong with him. They were supposed to be his friends. Instead it was as if he wanted them to banish him from their lives once and for all, but could perform no deed foul enough to outweigh their combined powers of saintly forgiveness.

Stumbling into the kitchen, snagging his littlest toe on the corner of BB’s empty dog crate, he picked through the trash with a grimace until he came up, miraculously, with the snapped cigarette and, miracles on miracles, a rolling paper with its stick still sticky enough to be useful after he blew off the clinging ash.

Forgetting in his anticipation of the first smoke of the day the steady pounding beat of his hangover, he carried both paper and cigarette to the coffee table for surgery, over-licking the stick as always yet managing to bandage the cigarette together anyhow. He held it in shaky-handed victory up into the light of a sunbeam shimmering gold with dust motes. He’d done one thing right, and he was proud.

Plucking what he assumed to be Poe’s sunglasses from the table and slipping them over his raw-red eyes, he left the empty house and bad night behind him only to discover something much worse lying in wait in the soft grass of the apartment building’s lovely green lawn. Like his unfortunate childhood affinity for running at rather than away from bees and hornets and spiders and snakes and all manner of stinging, hurting things (and still, when a bee passed buzzingly by, he would find himself hypnotized, leaning toward it moth-to-flame) Kylo could not stop his feet from moving at rather than away from the skinny redhead sunning himself in the yard, who hadn’t yet noticed him creeping closer.

Kylo fished desperately for the lighter in his pocket as he approached as if to hold it out between them as a talisman, to defend himself from his own frightful impulse to fall on the unsuspecting cool creature, bury his face in his neck, and cry save me save me save me, all my life’s edges are curling up like burnt paper and I don’t know why I’m like this, please.

“Hey,” he said, clutching his lighter tighter.

The redhead mocked him, “Hey,” in a neanderthal’s grunt and flipped a page irritably, never looking up.

Kylo loved him all at once, if he hadn’t already, “Can you even get a tan?” he asked, eyes running the length of him, legs going and going and going until they ended prettily in upturned soft white feet.

“I’m hoping my freckles will all run together,” he said, still not looking up from his book.

“Freckles,” Kylo said, momentarily dizzy, then lit his cigarette, considering, “Won’t you just be orange then?”

Finally the head turned from the book, mouth open on some remark before he caught sight of Kylo. His eyes, too, were hidden behind dark sunglasses but his mouth closed all at once and he swallowed, coming back with a promising low purr, “Aren’t you rude?”

Kylo smiled down at him like a man daydreaming at the window of the butcher’s.

“What happened to your cigarette?” he asked.

“I fixed it,” Kylo said, holding the crooked thing out for inspection. On cue, it broke in half again, dangling. The cherry dropped near the redhead’s pale thigh, but he didn’t flinch away.

“Poor puppy,” he tsked, “With those big, clumsy fingers. At least you tried.”

Kylo squeezed the lighter, asked, “Do you have another cigarette on you?”

“No,” he said.

“What about in your apartment?” Kylo asked, bold as brass, “You live here, don’t you?”

“No,” he said, lip quirking, “Yes, I mean, I do live here, but no,” one foot floated up into the air flirtatious, as if to show off the pertness of his little ass in little shorts.

“Maybe we should check anyway,” Kylo said.

“No,” he said, unsmiling, foot dropping back to earth, “But what about your place?”

“I don't really, uh--” Kylo stopped short of admitting out loud that he had no place in all the world. Instead he looked toward his friends’ friendly green door with its paint charmingly peeled, then back at the certainly venomous redhead, who had rolled over to lean back on his elbows, stomach as pale and soft as the soles of his feet. “How about here?” Kylo asked past his drool, already getting hard at the thought of pinning him sun-warm to the floor.

“Here?” he asked, with a little wiggle, one disbelieving eyebrow raising up above his sunglasses, “In the grass?”

“In there,” Kylo said, pinking, head nodding toward the door, “My friends’ place. I don’t know when they’ll be home,” it sounded like a dare.

“You would do that to the golden children in #7?” A mocking gasp, “What a friend you must be.”

“Sorry,” Kylo dropped his gaze, frowning at the apology--To whom? For what?--and focused on the smoking spot where the cigarette’s cherry had started a small fire in the grass.

The redhead smothered it with the heel of his bare foot, drawing Kylo’s eyes up to where he was being judged by bright, surprising green eyes heavy with red lashes peeking out from above the dark glasses, low-slung on his nose. The decision came with a languorous shrug:  “Okay.”

“Okay,” Kylo repeated, struck otherwise dumb by his luck. As he stood there empty-headed and hard, the redhead rose with a stretch and passed him, one hand catching his and tugging, leading them up the front steps and letting himself and Kylo, too, in through the unlocked front door, book and blanket forgotten on the lawn.

When Kylo turned from locking the door, bolting the door, abandoning at the last moment his plan to bar it with a chair, the redhead was looking over the place with a curled lip that softened when Kylo at last wrapped a brave arm around his bare stomach, pulling him backwards against him. He kissed his neck, too hot beneath his lips, and said, “You burned.”

He sighed, “It figures,” and tilted his head back on Kylo’s shoulder, letting Kylo pull his sunglasses gently off and drop them on the table beside his own.

“Do you always fuck strangers?” Kylo asked, dragging his lips across his red skin.

“Always? No.” A hand came up suddenly to clench in Kylo’s hair. Kylo found that magic  spot again and sucked.

“Sometimes?” he asked, then bit there, too.

“S-sometimes.”

“I’ve never done this,” Kylo lied, because he sensed that the redhead would like that.

“You’re lying,” he said, lifting his head, “What’s your name?”

“Kylo."

“I’m Hux. So we’re not strangers anymore,” Hux said, twisting in Kylo’s arms to face him. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, bit his lip and lowered his feet to the floor, dragging Kylo’s face down the inches with him. Kylo’d fucked strangers before, it was true, but never so sober, in daylight, light headed with hunger.

“How do you want to fuck, Kylo?” Hux asked, teasing, but Kylo thought about it before answering, thumb tracing Hux’s pink bottom lip. He thought of Finn, Rey, and Poe coming home to find him fucking their redheaded neighbor over their coffee table and how very angry they would be.  

“Slow,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://nightsofllyn.tumblr.com)


End file.
